Milos Forman
Valmont

The sentimental squabbles of the late eighteenth century must truly have a wide following of interested parties among the hills of Hollywood. It's no coincidence that the erotic-philosophical mishaps of the protagonists of Pierre Choderlos de Laclos’ most famous work, "Les Liaisons dangereuses", continue to gather fans since 1782. The first was Roger Vadim with "Les liaisons dangereuses" in 1959, and twenty-nine years later, it was Stephen Frears’ turn with a film of the same name. In 1989, Milos Forman followed in the footsteps of his predecessors with "Valmont."

The story essentially revolves around Viscount Valmont (C. Firth) and the Marquise Juliette de Merteuil (A. Bening), two aristocrats who were once lovers and dedicated to libertinism. The targets of their seductive games are Madame Tourvel (M. Tilly), the wife of another former lover of the Marquise, and a cousin of the latter, Cecile (F. Balk). According to the game’s rules, Valmont must seduce de Tourvel and deflower the young Cecile, who has just left a convent. Initially, the inexperienced virgin rejects Valmont's advances as she is in love with a man, roughly her own age, Danceny. However, Valmont manages to seduce both targets, even making Madame de Tourvel fall in love with him. But since the Marquise orders him to end the relationship with her, Valmont writes her a breakup letter. At this point, the game between the two protagonists becomes increasingly dangerous as de Merteuil reveals the relationship between Valmont and Cecile to Danceny. Inflamed by the news, the young man challenges the Viscount to a duel, ultimately killing him.

The uniqueness of Forman's work, a trait that sets it apart from previous films and the book itself, lies in many aspects. Moreover, the screenplay openly manipulates the novel regarding several aspects, including the age of the characters, much younger than those appearing in the film by his American colleague Frears. The Czech director tends to temper the heavily cynical tones created by the still excellent performances of Glenn Close and John Malkovich in the 1988 film, recalling partially the coquettish spirit of eighteenth-nineteenth century French nobility while intervening through the characters with a modern critique of the story. Indeed, the Marquise, more than being ruthless as in Laclos’ writing, appears light-hearted and ironic in her approach to the romantic intrigues she herself constructs, and even the charming character of Valmont is revealed as determined but also reflective. But above all, Forman explores the repercussions of the protagonists' actions: the bitterness that Madame de Tourvel sinks into and the emotional turmoil of Cecile, who becomes aware of the drabness of the society she lives in.

A modern reflection set in a past era. Precisely a reflection on human relationships, love, and their complexity. The entire narrative is centered around this continuous role exchange between the characters, the victim and the executioner. Valmont always seems to act as the executioner, but he is a victim of the attraction towards the Marquise, who is in turn constrained by the thirst for revenge, the will to dominate over people and feelings, even her own. The actors’ performances are excellent, above all Annette Bening, who manages to convince as in "American Beauty," where she gives her best, slightly discomforted Flirth. All of this is complemented by an impeccable rendition.

The beautiful scenography by Pierre Guffroy perfectly frames Forman's intentions and qualifies as an excellent historical reconstruction of ancient noble palaces inhabited by an aristocracy emptied of any political role and devoid of moral aspirations, focusing on hedonistic and pleasurable activities to feel less bored while their sense of emptiness continues to grow, amid rococo salons and sumptuous bedrooms. The dialogues and scenic action are unstoppable and know how to intrigue. All this did not stop the critique that malignantly attacked the work, sometimes misinterpreting the role of the story's central figures, sometimes accusing the film of being fragmented and inferior compared to Frears'. But comparisons are of little use in these cases, indeed, they only serve to create misunderstandings about the aforementioned feature film, given that the aims pursued by the two directors are diametrically opposed.